That Saturday, Drake filed the appropriate paperwork at the police station and arranged to cover the cost of the damage his little skirmish had caused to the bank the previous day.
On the way out, he ran into a man walking past the bank. As Drake apologized, he thought he glimpsed the hand-grip of a Mossberg 500 shotgun, tucked away under the man’s jacket.
Having a gun wasn’t in itself unusual; Drake had his own personal armoury after all, although people usually just carried a handgun, if at all.
Deciding to trail the man, he watched him walk down the street and turn a corner before following. Drake shadowed the man to the museum and counted to thirty before going in after him.
Entering the museum, he was greeted by panicked museum-goers as the man stood waving the Mossberg in the air, barking orders to both guards and patrons.
Drake sighed, putting his hands up when the man spied him. It would have been nice to go somewhere WITHOUT someone pointing a gun at him for once…
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
#35: SUSPICIOUS SUIT.
“I’ll ask one more time,” shouted the man. “Where is Ulysses Mathewson?”
No-one answered.
“Come-on people, it’s not that hard, just tell me where he is!”
“Maybe they’d be more inclined to respond if you weren't waving the gun around, friend,” Drake said in his most diplomatic tone.
The man looked as though he were about to retort when a voice called from the balcony on the second floor.
“I’m Ulysses Mathewson.”
Immediately, the man swung around and aimed his shotgun at the smiling, portly, pinstripe wearing, grey haired gentleman, who was leaning heavily on a cane.
“I am in charge here,” he said. “If you have a problem, you can bring it up with me, not these poor people. My apologies for taking so long to get here, I have a deep vein thrombosis, making it difficult to get anywhere quickly.”
The man smiled grimly.
“You know why I'm here, Mathewson. I'm taking you back to Yellowstone, right now.”
The curator’s friendly grin didn't waver.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted. “Now, if you put down the gun, we can go back to my office and discuss this like the grown adults we are."
“Not on your life,” replied the younger man, racking a shell into the Mossberg. Before the man could do anything, Drake snatched the gun from his grasp and emptied the rounds onto the carpet. Something about them caught his attention and he turned to the man.
“These bullets are made silver.”
“Yes,” confirmed the man. “Ulysses Mathewson is a werewolf…”
No-one answered.
“Come-on people, it’s not that hard, just tell me where he is!”
“Maybe they’d be more inclined to respond if you weren't waving the gun around, friend,” Drake said in his most diplomatic tone.
The man looked as though he were about to retort when a voice called from the balcony on the second floor.
“I’m Ulysses Mathewson.”
Immediately, the man swung around and aimed his shotgun at the smiling, portly, pinstripe wearing, grey haired gentleman, who was leaning heavily on a cane.
“I am in charge here,” he said. “If you have a problem, you can bring it up with me, not these poor people. My apologies for taking so long to get here, I have a deep vein thrombosis, making it difficult to get anywhere quickly.”
The man smiled grimly.
“You know why I'm here, Mathewson. I'm taking you back to Yellowstone, right now.”
The curator’s friendly grin didn't waver.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted. “Now, if you put down the gun, we can go back to my office and discuss this like the grown adults we are."
“Not on your life,” replied the younger man, racking a shell into the Mossberg. Before the man could do anything, Drake snatched the gun from his grasp and emptied the rounds onto the carpet. Something about them caught his attention and he turned to the man.
“These bullets are made silver.”
“Yes,” confirmed the man. “Ulysses Mathewson is a werewolf…”
#36: CHALLENGING CHANGELING!
Drake wasn’t sure what to make this new information and looked at the curator, who now had an ugly look of contempt on his face.
“Well done, Woodsman,” he said. “Looks like you’ve got me now.
Mathewson then threw his cane aside and with a remarkable athleticism for someone of his and girth, leapt off the top of the stairs. He began changing in mid-air: with a sickening crunch of bones shifting and fabric tearing.
By the time he landed on the Woodsman, he was a silver furred wolf, easily twice the size of a regular wolf. The Woodsman’s thick jacket took the brunt of the attack, but Mathewson was not finished, rearing his head back to bite down on the man’s neck.
Drake grabbed a DO NOT TOUCH sign and shoved it between the creature’s jaws.
Pausing only to reflect on the sign’s appropriate message, Drake dropped down, transferred his weight to his hands and kicked out with both legs, knocking the werewolf off its victim. Snarling, it picked itself up, focusing on the interloper.
“Alright Fido,” Drake taunted, “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Mathewson lunged right at his throat. Drake ducked, but misjudged the speed and both man and beast went crashing to the floor…”
“Well done, Woodsman,” he said. “Looks like you’ve got me now.
Mathewson then threw his cane aside and with a remarkable athleticism for someone of his and girth, leapt off the top of the stairs. He began changing in mid-air: with a sickening crunch of bones shifting and fabric tearing.
By the time he landed on the Woodsman, he was a silver furred wolf, easily twice the size of a regular wolf. The Woodsman’s thick jacket took the brunt of the attack, but Mathewson was not finished, rearing his head back to bite down on the man’s neck.
Drake grabbed a DO NOT TOUCH sign and shoved it between the creature’s jaws.
Pausing only to reflect on the sign’s appropriate message, Drake dropped down, transferred his weight to his hands and kicked out with both legs, knocking the werewolf off its victim. Snarling, it picked itself up, focusing on the interloper.
“Alright Fido,” Drake taunted, “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Mathewson lunged right at his throat. Drake ducked, but misjudged the speed and both man and beast went crashing to the floor…”
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